


Therapeutic Release

by MunchkinHug



Series: Dean Winchester's Guide to Adopting Angels [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adoption, Adoptive Parent Dean Winchester, Age play but slightly different, Angel Sanctuary - Freeform, Angels as Pets (Supernatural), BAMF Jody Mills, BAMF Sam Winchester, Caregiver Dean, Caretaking, Castiel Needs a Hug (Supernatural), Gen, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Illegal Angel Trafficking, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Non-Sexual Age Play, Oblivious Dean Winchester, Other, Selectively Mute Castiel (Supernatural), Therapy, Veterinarian Sam Winchester, bottle feeding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:27:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23943901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MunchkinHug/pseuds/MunchkinHug
Summary: Castiel was used to being an outcast. With black cursed wings and a missing voice, he knows no one would want him. After a illegal angel auction goes south, he finds himself rescued but trapped in a confusing, new world with nothing but haunted memories of what he left behind.Dean was never supposed to get involved with his brother's work. Sam was the Angel nut. However, when Dean finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, he can't quiet stop himself from getting involved with the little black-winged angel that no one wants.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Gabriel (Supernatural), Castiel/Michael (Supernatural), Castiel/multiple OC Angels, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Sammy & Gabriel
Series: Dean Winchester's Guide to Adopting Angels [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726075
Comments: 41
Kudos: 168





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because there's not nearly enough Angel Cas adoption arcs....

Dean hated owing favors. Owing Sam favors was even worse. The same impeccable memory that had sailed Sam through veterinary school at the top of his class also ensured Sam never forgot a single favor Dean owed him. 

Dean hefted the crate of Angel formula out of Baby's trunk and precariously edged his way up the back steps of Sam's office. He smashed the service bell with his elbow and prayed the receptionist was paying attention. There was no way he was opening this door on his own. Not without smashing every bottle of formula on the concrete steps. 

Precious minutes ticked by.

Favors were the bane of Dean's existence and no one would ever tell him otherwise. 

Dean muttered a choice curse under his breath and elbowed the button hard. He was about to push it again when the door flung open. Sam motioned him inside impatiently. Dean arched an eyebrow at Sam's messy hair and wild eyes. 

"Just put the crate in my office. I'll dump it off in the supply room later."

"Hello to you, too, Samantha."

Sam stopped mid-step and turned to give Dean a weary, lopsided smile. 

"Sorry, Dean, this morning's been a nightmare. Jody showed up with a handful of rescues she sprung from someone's warehouse. Illegal breeding ring. We have no idea how big it is, but angels keep popping up every few months. All of them half-dead and feral."

As if on cue, a hysterical shriek rang out from down the hallway. 

Dean jerked a thumb toward the scream. 

"Half-dead, feral angel?"

"No, just one drama queen. Gabe's been his own special brand of brat the past few days. The more last-minute rescues we have to take in, the less time and energy we have for our older fosters. We're understaffed as is..."

Sam ran a large hand through his hair in exasperation. Dean winced at the greasy mane. How long had it been since Sam had been home? Guilt stung him. Clearly, Sam needed more checking up on. 

"I'd hire another caretaker to help with the older fosters--more time and attention. More supervision so me, Jo, and Benny could focus on getting the rescues healthy and safe. We're a non-profit, Dean. No one would even apply for the job if they saw what I could pay."

Another screech rang out. Closer this time. Dean wiggled a finger in his ear. 

"I've got a few hours before I have to be at the garage. Show me what I can do."

Sam stared open-mouthed. 

Dean rolled his eyes. 

"Come on, is it really that hard to believe I could help take care of an angel? They're basically spoiled cats. Snooty, high-maintenance, too intelligent for their own good. Expensive. Could probably kill you in your sleep..."

"Alright, I get the picture. You're not their biggest fan." Sam shook his head and cracked a wry smile. "If you actually took the time to get to know them, you might be surprised by what angels are actually like. They're hard work, but they're pretty cool creatures."

"The last time you came over for burgers and football you spent the entire night whining about the glitter Gabriel dumped in your hair."

Dean leveled an accusatory glare at Sam. These stupid creatures were running his brother ragged! He didn't understand for the life of him why his brother had dedicated his life to saving and caring for the strange, unnatural beasts cluttering up his office. 

"I stand corrected. Angels are amazing when they're properly supervised and given enough attention. They're more like children than pets."

"SAmmmy!"

A ball of gold, flapping wings crashed into Sam's waist. Dean jerked back in horror as Sam faltered for his balance while the creature clambered up into his arms. Dean glared at the perky grin glowing back at him. 

"Gabriel, how do we ask to be picked up? We talked about this?" Sam lectured. 

"Pleases and thanks!" the angel shot back. Dean narrowed his eyes. Gabriel looked entirely too happy nestled in Sam's arms. He seemed oblivious to the half-hearted lecture Sam was giving him about previously taught etiquette. The angel simply didn't care. He'd gotten what he wanted. Sam's undivided attention. 

Devious little monster. 

"Do you remember my brother, Dean?"

"Hi!" Gabriel gave a little self-satisfied wave in Dean's general direction before turning back to Sam, eyes glowing with adoration. 

"Candy, Sam, Pleease!"

"What candy?"

"Candy in your desk! Pleeeeease!" 

Sam paused, but Dean saw his brother's resolve already crumbling to the ground. 

"Did you clean up your toys?"

"Yes!"

"Are you sure?"

Gabriel nodded so violently Dean half-expected him to come tumbling out of Sam's arms. 

"If I ask Miss Jo, what will she say?"

There was a heavy pause before the angel carefully extracted himself from Sam's arms and went running back down the hallway, clearly on a mission.

"Sam, that little monster has you wrapped around his wings. He's playing you!"

Sam shook his head and gave a wistful smile Dean didn't understand. 

"He's been here the longest out of all the fosters. No one's adopted him. The few that took him on trial basis sent him back within 72 hours."

"So?"

"So, Gabe's a special case. This is his home for all intents and purposes. We're the only family he has."

"That doesn't excuse his behavior. I don't get the impression you tell him 'no' very often."

"You gonna carry that crate of formula or am I?" 

Dean grinned at the not-so-subtle brush off and picked the crate back up. 

"Lead on, Sammy."

* * *

Dean busied himself sorted through the crates of supplies cluttering Sam's office. He shook his head in disgust at the mess. It was less of an office space and more of a badly-maintained storage closet. He doubted Sam even used the buried desk. He filled another tub of supplies and pushed it toward the door. Sam had agreed to let him help. He hadn't really had a choice in the matter. Benny had paged him on the overhead about an urgent situation. He hadn't used those words exactly but the violent shrieks and growls in the backround had explained enough. Sam had rattled-off a quick string of directions before running off to rescue Benny from whatever crisis was going down. 

Dean prepared another tub of supplies and added it to the pile by the door. Using a list Sam had tacked to the office door, he was filling storage tubs of supplies to drop off at each of the group rooms and med bay. Sam liked to keep a running stash of supplies ready in each room. Most of the rooms hadn't been re-stocked in the past few weeks and were long over-due. 

Dean finished sorting and gathered up two of the tubs. He set off down the hallway, half-searching, half-exploring as he went. He didn't spend much time at Sam's office and the lay-out wasn't clear in his mind. He knew the hallways ran in a round-about circle. He'd make it to the group rooms eventually. Hopefully he didn't run into any of the creepy little devils on his way. He wasn't planning on actually going into any of the rooms. 

Dean winced at the growing chittering and squeaks. He paused outside the first room and peered into the large observation window. Inside, at least a dozen angels were romping and playing. Most looked very young. Their wings were tiny and bushy with poorly developed feathers. Piles of toys lay scattered about the room and blankets and pillows lay scattered in poor attemps at what looked like nests. 

Dean gave a small tap on the window and the young woman inside looked up at him with a grin. She exracted herself from the two angels cuddling on her lap and met Dean at the door. 

"Special delivery for a Miss Jo."

"Well, hello, stranger! What's got you visiting the fledgling room?"

"Is that what this is?"

"Yep, baby angels. Well, not babys exactly. Those would be nestlings. We do have a few. Most are a bit older though."

"Same difference. They all look the same to me," Dean muttered with an eye-roll.

Jo accepted the tub of supplies with a happy whoop.

"Thank God! It's been ages since we actually had a complete tub of supplies. We've been mostly running back and forth trying to piece-meal everything."

Dean stepped back when he noticed the tiny face peering up at him from behind Jo's leg. 

"Aww, did you want to say hi Haziel? Say hi to De!"

"It's Dean, not De," he shot back.

"DE!" the tiny angel squeeked with a shy wave."

"See, it's De," Jo argued. 

"I'll leave you to your baby chickens. I'm dropping off supplies to the other rooms."

"Don't be such a stranger, Dean. It'd be nice having you around here more."

"Thanks, but I'll pass. _You_ don't be a stranger. You and your mom need to make it over for steaks while I still have my grill out."

"Tempting." Jo made a show of thinking, stroking a non-existent beard. "Throw in a potato salad and you've got me."

"I'll do you one better. I'll make that German chocolate cake you cried over last time."

"Those were happy tears!"

"Of course they were! It was _my_ cake!"

Jo cackled and shook her head in wonder. 

"If I ever went around telling people what a closeted chef you were..."

Dean raised a finger to his lips. 

"It's part of the whole secret identiy thing. Shsh..."

"Not all heroes where capes."

Dean gave a mock salute and headed down the hallway with his remaining tubs.

Dean stopped by the med bay and pocked his head inside. The room was surprisingly empty although it looked freshly used. He left the supply tub on the counter and continued his journey. 

He paused at the next group room and peaked inside. The room was packed with angels but it didn't have the same playful, chaotic energy as the fledgling room. The angels inside were relatively solitary, most sitting alone or in small groups. Quite a few were sleeping in group piles in the nests scattered about the room. Dean frowned. Several angels were heavily bandaged. One was missing a wing, a bandaged stump all that remained. 

Dean was about to turn away, but a dark shape caught his eye. He turned back and stared hard at the tiny angel creeping along the wall like a scared kitten. Ratty, black wings trailed behind him like he was too weak to even manage their weight. The angel was small and hunched. He was clutching something tightly to his chest like a shield. Dean couldn't quite make out what it was. A toy maybe?

The timid angel edged to a group of angels gathered by low table with dishes of chopped fruit and a water dispenser. The angels were much larger compared to the black-winged angel. Their bodies formed a perfect shield around the table as they sat munching and chattering to each other, seemingly oblivious to the starving angel behind them.

Dean watched the little angel's tongue dart out and lick at his lips. The black wings seemed to sag even lower behind him. 

_Come on, just speak up!_ Dean heard himself urge. _Get in there!_

The angel seemed to bolster his courage for a split second. He reached out a hand and tapped the closest angel. 

The angel didn't seem to notice. It was a large male with milky-white wings that stretched out proudly behind him. He was munching down apple slices. 

_Come on, little dude! Get some food! You can do it!_

The tiny black angel cowered back, his whole body sagging in failure. He was just going to give up! Dean felt himself growing warm at the injustice of it all. The bigger angels had plenty of food. They could stop filling their faces for a hot second! It wasn't fair!

Dean barely had time to realize what happened. He watched the tiny angel back up into a much larger angel with fierce silver wings. She gave an annoyed squawk and shoved the angel away from her straight into the crowd of angels surrounding the food table. Plates of fruit dumped from the table at the force of the blow. The tiny black angel gave a muffled cry of pain and clutched the object in his arms even tighter. The angels around the table began yelling and gesturing wildly to him as if it was all his fault he'd crashed their meal. Black wings curled around the angel's body protectively as he curled into himself on the floor, eyes clamped shut in panic. 

Dean watched in a sort of horrified stupor. Somehow, his hand was resting on the handle of the door, fingers clenched. 

A foot shot out and kicked at the black-winged angel, earning a muffled cry of pain as it connected with his chest. The angels had formed a circle, the group skittering and chattering with anger. Dean didn't understand the language, but it was easy to guess what they were screaming at their huddled victim. 

Angry hands shot out toward the black angel. The crowd shifted and Dean lost sight for a brief moment. When a gap formed again, piles of black feathers littered the floor, the tuffs streaked with something damp and dark. Red droplets sprinkled the linoleum beneath them. 

Dean was rushing through the doorway and pulling angels off the huddled pile before he realized what he was doing. The angels squawked and screamed at him, but even the largest angel was still head and shoulder shorter than Dean. They barely made it to his chest. It didn't matter. A bully was a bully and Dean had reached the end of his patience. 

He yelled over the chaos and waded through irate angels. When he made it to the center, his chest gave an unpleasant lurch. The black angel was laying silent and still. His wings were bald in large patches and bleeding but they were still pressed up tightly against him in a desperate attempt of a shield. He didn't seem to notice Dean's presence.

Oh, crap. Was he dead!?

Dean knelt down beside him and reached out to touch him. The angel didn't budge. The angels behind Dean began yelling louder, but he paid them no mind. 

"Hey, there, buddy. You with me? You're safe now. I'm not gonna let those douches touch you again. Promise."

The angel remained statue-still. Dean couldn't even see his face from where he was hiding it in his arms. 

"Hey, come on, tiny. Work with me here. I'm gonna get you to Sammy, okay? You know, the tall Sasquatch that looks after you guys? He'll get you fixed up."

Dean braced himself and counted to three. He sucked in a fortifying breath and gingerly scooped up the angel in his arms. The boy was trembling violently but made no sound. Dean stood and shot the angels in the room a savage glare. They had gone abruptly quiet and backed away. Most wouldn't meet his eyes. 

Dean muttered a curse and strode out the door with his rescue. He was going to have serious words with Sam over why such a pathetic, helpless angel had been trapped with a roomful of savages. He clearly couldn't take care of himself! Dean looked down, startled. The front of his t-shirt was quickly growing hot with moisture.The angel's face was pressed hard into his chest, his tiny shoulder shaking violently under the force of his sobs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sammy, what was he doing in there? They're eating him alive!"
> 
> "Dean, stop yelling. You're scaring him."
> 
> Dean froze and stared hard at the tiny angel huddled on the exam table. The tiny, bleeding wings were huddled close and a horrible mewing whine filled the room. 
> 
> "Is... he's going to be okay, right?"

Sam burst into the room, wild-eyed and breathless. 

"Dean, what happened?"

"What happened? What does it look like happened? Those stupid winged douche-bags were attacking him!"

"Where did you find him?" Sam pressed.

Sam snapped on a pair of gloves and hunched over the exam table for a closer look.

"That big room with all the jerk angels--he was just trying to get some food!"

"Hey, there, sweetie... just need to check you out. Shsh, it's alright."

A shrill, lingering whine started. It was so soft and yet it seemed to fill the exam room.

"Sammy, what was he doing in there? They were eating him alive!"

"Dean, stop yelling. You're scaring him."

Dean froze and stared hard at the tiny angel huddled on the exam table. The tiny, bleeding wings were huddled close and a horrible mewing whine grew under Sam's careful, clinical touch. The angel flinched away and nearly fell from the table. 

"Is... he's going to be okay, right?" Dean asked. He stepped closer to the table and then thought better of it and stepped back, flinching as the cry continued to build. He had that horrible sensation he'd gotten before when he was around a crying baby. Did you hold it? Talk to it? Feed it? Run away?

"I need to check his wings. If his pin feathers are damaged he might be bleeding pretty badly. He could go into shock."

Dean gave a strangling cough. He had not signed up for this! He'd promised to help Sam drop off supplies. He had no business getting involved in this dumpster fire. There was no way he couldn't have left the angel alone in that hell hole, though. He couldn't standby and watch. Not after everything that had happened.

"Dean, I need you to help me hold him still. No, put your hands here! Hold him!"

* * *

Castiel curled in on himself. The light was too bright. It hurt his eyes, but his wings hurt even worse. They felt warm and sticky and they kept shaking. He heard the tall man talking, but the words were too loud. They didn't make sense. 

All at once, large hands were touching him. Holding him. They were touching his wings!

Castiel let out a keening shriek and tried to pull away. More hands were touching him. "Nooo!" he begged. 

"Hey, hey, buddy, it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Castiel choked back a sob and stared up at the man holding him still. The face didn't look angry. He couldn't tell whether the man was mad at him or not.

"You're okay. Sammy's gonna get you all fixed up."

Castiel squirmed and lunged for one of the closest hands. 

"Holy--! He almost bit me!"

"Dean, hold him still! I need to hold pressure. His pin feathers are still bleeding."

The voices were too loud. Castiel still couldn't tell if they were mad at him. Why wouldn't they just let him go? What were they going to do to him? Were they stealing his wings? Some small part of Castiel felt a burst of relief. His wings were bad. Black wings were cursed. Unnatural. If they got rid of his wings maybe the other angels would stop hating him. Would they accept him if he didn't have the bad wings anymore? Maybe the man _should_ take his wings.

* * *

Dean watched stiffly as Sam tended to the bloody feathers. His brother was tense and focused and Dean felt a burst of pride that his baby brother had become so skilled. The angel was still crying, but Dean felt more concerned at the growing stillness. The angel seemed to stop fighting. He'd grown limp on the table. It was as if he'd had given up. 

"Okay, I've got a clotting agent on the broken pins and I've cleaned up the areas. He'll need to be watched for the next few hours. Angels tend to go into shock pretty easily when they've been injured--especially wing issues."

Sam gingerly picked up the angel with a blue baby blanket and swaddled him snuggly. He deposited him in an open, play-pen like enclosure that was filled with mounds of pillows and extra blankets. The angel lay in a broken pile, sniffling loudly. Sam pressed several blankets around him. The angel slowly began to snuffle into the pile, burying his face in the messy nest. 

"Thank you Dean." 

Dean looked up sharply at his brother. 

"Sam... why did they do that to him? Those stupid angels!"

Sam gave an exhausted sigh and ran a hand through his hair. He gave a miserable shrug. 

"Angels have very... _disturbing_ behavior patterns sometimes--not unlike humans actually. They're superstitious and cliquey, especially around what they regard as outsiders. Runts, injured angels, disabilities, unique physical characteristics. Anything out of the ordinary, really. This little guy's wings are a very rare color. You never see black wings. He's also much smaller. The larger angels took it as an invitation."

"He should have never been in there, Sam!"

"We just got him from the last raid. He was part of the illegal auction. I was in the process of trying to assess and organize the new angels, but it always takes longer than it should. He was supposed to go in the nestling room. I never intended for him to stay in the main room, I promise!"

"He could have died!"

"I won't let him get hurt again. He'll be safe here, Dean."

"With those winged douches? Yeah, sure!"

"Keep talking like that and I'll send him home with you! Is that what you're really asking me, Dean? You think you can take care of a traumatized, young angel?"

"Maybe I should be! Better than him staying here and getting plucked like a thanksgiving turkey every time your back is turned! How could you let that happen to him!"

"Fine. I'm getting the paperwork! You think you're better at this than me? Go ahead! Take him home. You won't last a day."

Dean jerked back, suddenly acutely aware of how close he and Sam were standing. He could feel his brother's anger radiating out. Dean listened to the pounding in his skull, his hands clenched. What was he doing? This wasn't him. Sam seemed to come to the same conclusion at that very moment. 

"D-Dean," he stammered, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have yelled."

"You weren't the only one yelling, Sammy."

"It's... it's just been a madhouse here that past few weeks. I'm not angry--just tired."

Dean looked over at the playpen. The angel had completely disappeared under the pile of blankets. The tips of his black wings poked out, both still slightly trembling. Dean thought he heard soft whimpering. 

"Sam, I think I really do want to take him home. That wasn't just trash talk."

Sam's eyes blew wide and his mouth seemed to gape.

"Dean! What? Really?"

"Go get the papers or whatever. I'm serious."

"You hate angels. You've never even been around them longer than a few minutes."

Dean went silent. He didn't want to meet Sam's eyes. He was too afraid Sam would see the truth hidden inside them. 

"I don't want to keep picturing what happened to him. If he stays here, that's what will happen. I'll keep re-living it. I want it to stop, Sammy. I need it to."

Sam gave a broken-off sigh. "Dean," he started. His voice has gone oddly hoarse. "Is this about Adam or that angel over there? You shouldn't be blaming yourself. Not for Adam and not for the angel. It wasn't your fault. None of it!"

"Go get the papers, Sam. I want to go home."

Sam opened his mouth, but shut it abruptly as if suddenly realizing he shouldn't say any more. Dean had turned into a rigid statue before him. It was obvious he was done talking. 

"Okay, Dean. If you're sure."

"Positive."

* * *

Dean carried the swaddled bundle of shivering angel to the back seat of Baby and gingerly set him down. He secured the seat belt over the sniffling form and pressed several extra blankets around him for extra support. He had no clue if the angel had ever been in a car before. He wasn't completely sure whether the angel was even aware of what was happening. Sam had signed off on his health before leaving and assured Dean he was stable enough to leave. Dean wasn't fully convinced. He kept mentally repeating the list of warning signs Sam had given him. He'd already re-checked for bleeding several times even after Sam had released him from observation. 

"Okay, little dude, we're blowing this stand. We're going home and you're gonna get some food and sleep," Dean promised as he started up the car. The angel remained quiet. Dean peaked back in the rear view mirror and found the angel's eyes clamped shut as if bracing for a punch to the face. He sighed hard. He knew this was going to be hard, but he wished the angel would work with him. Just a little.

The drive home was uneventful. It was only when Dean pulled into the driveway that hell seemed to break lose.

First, it was just subtle ripples. Tiny warning signs.

The angel began crying, the sobs growing steadily louder. Choked off gasps as if the angel was having trouble catching his breath. Dean quickly put Baby in park and rushed around to the back. He flung open the car door. 

Then the tidal wave hit. 

Dean caught the distinct sharp odor of urine just as he was reaching down to pick up the angel's trembling form. The angel let out a terrified shriek and pulled away. 

Dean saw him mouthing something silently to himself between sobs. 

'Sorry. Sorry. Sorry!' he was silently pleading. 

Dean's chest cracked in two.

"Hey, hey, now. It's okay, buddy. I'm not mad, I promise! That's what seat covers are for, right?" he knew he was rambling, but he didn't care. The angel was pressed up against the opposite car door in a desperate, terrified huddle. He had no idea how he was supposed to calm him down enough to take inside. He needed to get him calm and cleaned up. He shouldn't be panicking this badly--not after all he'd been through earlier. It couldn't be good for him.

"Come on, sweetheart. It's okay. You're not in trouble."

Dean knelt down beside the car, hands out in clear sight. He forced himself to give a watery smile he didn't feel. The angel was peaking back at him from underneath the blanket he'd huddled under. Dean stared back but all he saw was a different pair of teary eyes. The sense of déjà vu was all encompassing. It churned his stomach and sucker punched him all at once. 

_Adam._

The angel's cries were quieting, but Dean suspected it was more out of exhaustion than relief. The angel still looked terrified and distrusting. 

"How about I take you inside. We'll get you all clean and cozy then we build a nice new nest for you. Blankets. Pillows. The works. I promise."

The angel let out a pained shriek when Dean reached out a hand toward him. Dean quickly pulled back, guilt stinging him. He couldn't stand how scared he was making the boy. He felt like a monster. 

The idea hit him and he felt a small glow of hope. It had to work!

"Okay, munchkin. I'm gonna go get you something. A surprise. I'm pretty sure you'll like it. Stay right here okay?"

Dean quietly shut the car door and dashed inside the house. He did a blinding search of the nearly empty guest room and finally came up with his treasure. He raced back outside. The angel hadn't budged from his spot. Dean quietly opened the door and knelt back down. He held out his prize beseechingly and smiled as reassuringly as he could. This had to work! He was at the end of his rope.

The angel peered back at him, bright blue eyes shinning with tears. The eyes went wide with interest at the stuffed kitten Dean was holding out to him. 

"See the kitty? This is your kitty now if you want," Dean murmured. "Just let me take you inside, okay? Get you fixed up."

Slowly, carefully, the angel inched toward him across the backseat. The scent of urine grew stronger, but Dean didn't care. He gently scooped the boy up, careful to keep the blankets tucked as close as he could. The angel snuggled the kitten to his face. Dean's heart gave a throb. 

_Adam used to hold Kitty like that._

"See, I knew you'd like him," Dean choked out. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you do with a crying angel? Feed it? Talk to it? Give it a toy? Dean's heart gave an unpleasant tug and he did the first thing that felt right. He gathered the tiny angel into his arms and held him close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: brief mention of physical descriptions of past abuse; Castiel misunderstands Dean's kindness and tries to show submissive body language indicative of past non/con. Nothing explicit. Tags will be updated should future chapters share explicit information.

Dean found himself mentally dividing his plans into a series of stages. He had to break it down into baby-steps. There was no other way he could manage the overwhelming sea of emotion and realizations sweeping over him. The reality of what he'd done was finally sinking into his thick skull. 

He'd adopted an angel.

A living, breathing creature. He was responsible for this small, quietly sobbing little one before him. The angel had buried his blotchy, tear-stained face into the stuffed kitty and was clutching it tightly like a lifeline. He was rocking slightly in the urine-soaked blankets. It was such a pathetic, miserable picture. 

What do you do with a crying angel? Feed it? Talk to it? Give it a toy? Dean's heart gave an unpleasant tug and he did the first thing that felt right. What he would have done had it been Sammy or Adam young and crying. He gathered the tiny angel into his arms and held him close. The angel froze, body stiff and terrified. Dean winced at the terrified mewl that escaped. He had to do this, though. He couldn't just let the angel stay like this. 

_Okay, Stage One_ , he told himself, fast-stepping into the garage. _Get him inside_.

They made it as far as the laundry room when the angel went boneless in Dean's arms. Dean nearly froze, garage door still wide open behind him. The angel had buried his face in Dean's neck and was snuffling miserably into the warm crook. 

"I got you, buddy," Dean murmured. He was surprised to feel the angel seeking comfort from him, but he wasn't about to argue why. He tightened his grip on the angel and the little one seemed to respond in kind. 

_Step Two: get the angel clean._

He made it to the bathroom and froze in the doorway. He couldn't just strip the angel down and bathe him. Could he? The little guy stank of musty feathers and urine. Dean couldn't imagine the last time he'd been properly care for. The fact that he'd been rescued from an illegal angel trafficking ring spoke volumes. Dean squared his shoulders. This was just like when he was taking care of Sammy and Adam when they were little. He knew how to give baths! He could do this!

"Okay, buddy, let's go get some clean clothes from my room then we'll get you cleaned up, alright?"

The angel cuddled closer in response. Dean heaved a soft sigh of relief. The angel appeared to be warming up to him. Maybe it was just the body heat he was after. He was still shivering fitfully. 

Dean made a pit-stop in his room and rooted around in his dresser with one hand until he fished out a clean, baggy t-shirt.

"Hope you're a _Metallica_ fan," he muttered. " _Metallica 1988_ tour it is." 

Dean marched them back to the bathroom and knelt down by the closed toilet seat. He set the angel down, gently untangling stiff, desperate fingers from the back of his shirt. 

"Hey now, munchkin, I'm not leaving. Just need to set you down for a sec."

The angel whined, lip quivering. He looked up at Dean with puffy, reddened eyes, silently begging to be held again. 

Dean regarded him carefully. He doubted the angel fully trusted him. Still, the angel had seemed to have formed a fragile, anxious attachment. He regarded Dean as a source of comfort and protection. Dean silently promised himself he'd uphold that trust. 

"Just filling the tub up for you. Not too deep, I promise. We're supposed to be keeping those wings dry as possible for now."

The angel's blue eyes went as round as saucers as the tub steadily filled. Dean wasn't sure if it was the loud water or the idea of a bath itself that shocked the angel. He looked like a fawn staring into the on-coming doom of truck headlights. 

"It's not scary, buddy. It's just water. Nice and warm. Look! I'll even add bubbles for you." Without hesitation, Dean emptied about half of his body wash into the steaming water. Bubbles dutifully formed, but it wasn't as good as real bubble-bath. Not like that pink watermelon crap Adam used to love. 

The soft, pained memories ached inside Dean. He'd used to love giving his younger brother a bath when he was little. There'd been toys and bubbles and ungodly amounts of water splashed on the floor. Dean smiled past the throbbing ache and turned his attention back to the angel. 

"Okay, short stuff. Let's do this." 

The angel shifted nervously on the closed toilet seat and eyed the water suspiciously. 

Dean reached for him and began pulling the loose shirt over his head. It wasn't much--just the standard gray scrub shirt Sam often gave to rescued angels at his clinic when they didn't have anything else to wear. It was the smallest size and yet it still dwarfed the angels' scrawny frame. 

The angel gave a fearful hiss and squirmed away, but Dean had already managed to wrangle the shirt off. He froze and stared at the sight before him. 

The prominent collarbone and ribs were the least of his concerns. His eyes had frozen on the finger-shaped bruises and bite scars stamped into the pale, nearly translucent skin. 

"The hell... what did they do to you?" Dean croaked. He'd caught a glimpse of the angels bare body when Sam had tended to his wings, but he'd been too caught up in the moment to fully grasp what he was seeing. The angel wouldn't meet Dean's eyes. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and he twisted his head until his neck was presented fully in a horrible show of submission. 

"Hey! No, don't do that!" 

The angel jerked back at the force of Dean's voice. He gave a trembling cry--part confusion, part fear. 

"No, sorry," Dean quickly amended. "I'm not mad. Just... don't do that submission stuff here. Not with me. That's not what I'm after. I promise!"

The angel regarded him for a long, unblinking moment. As young and terrified as he was, there was a certain deep wisdom and knowing in the blue eyes. Wisdom far beyond his years. 

"I didn't bring you here to... _use_ you," Dean stammered. "I'm just trying to take care of you. Nothing else."

Dean waited, desperate for some sign of understanding. Thick silence hung over the bathroom. The angel looked away and wouldn't meet his gaze. Dean heaved a sigh. What was he doing? He didn't have a clue. 

"Okay, let's get your pants off so you can hop in the tub." The angel took the hint and shimmied out of the baggy scrub pants. He hung his head and sniffled as he stood waiting awkwardly. Dean swallowed hard and helped him step over the side of the tub and sit. 

The angel let out a surprised huff at the warm water. He stared hard at the piles of bubbles surrounding him and reached a tentative hand toward the foam. He didn't smile, but Dean caught the slight relaxation that eased over his face. The fear in his eyes seemed to lessen ever to slightly. 

"Yeah, bubbles always make everything better," he muttered to no one in particular. He smiled at the innocent scene and sighed. He wished he could offer the kid some toys. Even a duck would be something. The pink stuffed kitten sat waiting dutifully on the bathroom counter. Dean caught the angel glancing over frequently to check on it. The tension abated somewhat and he felt his confidence returning. He could do this! 

The bath was an awkward, delicate affair. The angel seemed trusting enough to accept help with his dark matted curls, but he shivered and jerked every time Dean came at him with a washcloth. Dean hated himself and finally gave up after he managed to get the bulk of the grime off the angel's face and arms. The warm, soapy bath water would have to take care of everything else. 

He rinsed the soap off and pulled the plug. The angel's eyes went wide in confusion as the water vacated the tub. Dean held out a large blue towel and the angel obediently snuggled into the folds as he lifted him out of the tub and set him on the counter top. The baggy Metallica t-shirt went over his head and hug down low, far past the angel's knees. The black wings were tucked well out of sight. Looking at him, Dean could almost swear he was nothing more than a tiny, malnourished kid. Without the wings, he basically was. 

"I don't have any pants for you yet," Dean apologized. "We'll have to go shopping tomorrow and stock up. I can give you some socks. They'd probably go up to your knees, but it'd be something. You look cold."

The angel had begun shivering again, tiny teeth chattering softly. Dean bundled him off to the living room and plopped him on the couch. He stared piling blankets around him in a crude parody of a nest. 

"Here, do something with these. I don't have a clue." Dean stepped back and watched the angel gather the blankets around him with tiny, uncertain hands. The movements were careful and delicate as if afraid the blankets would suddenly disappear. Dean stepped back toward the kitchen thinking some privacy would do the angel good. He'd already invaded his space enough. 

"I'm gonna make some dinner for us. Got any favorites?" He wasn't really expecting an answer, but he found himself taking just to fill the silent void. The angel was basically nonverbal with the exception of the "no's" and "sorry's" he'd whispered earlier. Dean wondered whether the angel could talk. Sam hadn't mentioned any injuries to his mouth or throat. Maybe he was just too shy? The implications behind the psychological factors that could render someone mute stung Dean's mind. He'd heard of kids going silent after horrible things happened. It happened with some adults too. It was never a good thing. If he could just get the angel talking, it would a good sign. A tiny step in the right direction. He didn't even know the angel's name. Sam didn't either. The only information in the angel's file after being rescued was his auction number and physical description. It was as if he didn't even have an identity. 

"I'm making tomato and rice soup," he called from the kitchen. "I'll make you a grilled cheese too. We gotta get you eating. Get some weight back on your tiny bones."

The silence stretched and Dean resisted the urge to sigh in frustration. He wished the angel would say something.

He poked his head out of the kitchen doorway and stopped to stare. The angel had curled himself into an impossibly small ball right in then center of the blankets and passed out. Dean stepped closer to spy and nearly let out an "awww" in spite of himself. The angel had tucked a tiny thumb into his mouth. Dean quietly tip-toed back to the bathroom and retrieved the tiny stuffed kitten from the counter top. He placed the soft toy in the angel's arms and he seemed to curl tighter. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean peaked around the corner and his chest did a funny little flip flop he hadn't felt in a long long time. Something it hadn't done since he'd caught Sammy and Adam huddled on the couch sharing a box of Lucky charms nearly fifteen years ago. The angel was cuddled around the pink kitty stuffie sucking his thumb. He was so tiny, he'd nearly vanished into the couch cushions. Then there was that sound. 
> 
> Was that.... purring?

Dean shuffled down the hallway, yawning. He rubbed at the prickly two-day old beard and then at his sore, sleep-addled eyes. He felt barely awake. To be fair, he'd barely gotten any sleep the night before. He'd spent the night tossing and turning with more questions than he cared to count. What did one do with a young angel? He knew of all the rumors and traditions that somehow still filled their society. Even with all the new activism and lobbying, abuse and mistreatment still seemed to be the norm for most angel owners. If the angels were servants they were sex toys. If they somehow weren't either of those things, they were considered posh, exotic pets rich, society members liked to dress in silly costumes or pamper like fat toy poodles. 

What was Dean supposed to do with his angel? 

He paused at the end of the hallway and considered his dilemma. He'd call Sam. Maybe there was some sort of angel preschool he could enroll him in? The boy was so young. He couldn't just keep him stashed alone in his house. He had work. He couldn't stay home with him forever. 

Dean peaked around the corner and his chest did a funny little flip flop he hadn't felt in a long long time. Something it hadn't done since he'd caught Sammy and Adam huddled on the couch sharing a box of Lucky charms nearly fifteen years ago. The angel was cuddled around the pink kitty stuffie sucking his thumb. He was so tiny, he'd nearly vanished into the couch cushions. Then there was that sound. 

Was that.... purring?

Dean blinked hard. Angels could purr? That was a good thing right? 

He stepped carefully through the living room to the kitchen. He needed more coffee if he was going to face this new situation intelligently. When he returned to the living room a while later with a steamy mug, the angel was gone. Dean frowned and peered hard at the couch. The angel didn't seem to be hiding under the cushions. Dean peered under the couch. Nothing. He was about to take the cushions off the couch entirely when he heard a small sound behind him. The light in the bathroom wasn't on, but there was a distinct sobbing sound coming from inside. 

Cautiously, he ventured to the bathroom and flipped the light on. The angel was trying unsuccessfully to maneuver himself onto the toilet seat. He was too short and he kept slipping. When he finally did manage to haul himself on top, he nearly fell face-first into the water. Dean caught him before he could fall inside. 

"Whoa, there, short-stack. You're gonna drown!"

The angel gave a miserable sob and scrubbed his hands across his puffy, reddened eyes. Dean frowned and found himself petting the angels tangled curls. "Hey, now, it's okay. Let me help you." Dean settled the little one on the edge of the seat and held on to his sides just long enough to ensure he didn't tip backward and fall into the water. Once he was sure the angel was secure, he stepped back and watched the angel ruck up his long t-shirt around his hips to keep it clean. Dean turned his back while the angel did his business. All too soon, though, he realize it didn't matter that the angel had made it to the bathroom. He took a step and something warm and wet touched his foot. A trail of urine led across the bathroom floor. Dean sighed inwardly and made a mental note to check the living room for evidence of any accidents. He'd let the angel sleep on the couch because keeping him in his own bedroom felt gross. His office was too cluttered and full of mechanic tools and extra parts to be safe for a young child. Letting him sleep on the couch had been the best option. Still, if the angel was going to keep having accidents, Dean might be renting a carpet shampooer in the near future. 

The angel made a sad noise as he wiggled his way down and off the toilet. He stared up at Dean shyly, eyes quickly dropping to the floor. Dean smiled and knelt down beside him. "Okay, kid, let's get you cleaned up real quick then we'll get some grub."

Dean grabbed a washcloth and wiped the angel's legs down hesitantly. It probably wasn't a very thorough cleaning, but it still felt awkward cleaning the small creature. He barely knew him. Dean tossed a few towels on the floor to sop-up the pee. He'd mop the floor later. When he finished, he took the angel by the hand and led the him out to the kitchen. Thankfully, the angel's accident had spared the carpet. 

Dean pulled out a chair and helped the angel scootch his way on top. "Now," he began. "What should we make for breakfast?" The angel just stared at him. Dean gave a crooked smile. He was growing used to one-sided conversations. He wondered whether the angel would ever speak. Sam hadn't said anything was wrong with his vocal cords. Maybe he'd missed something? 

"How about pancakes? I've heard from very reliable sources that I make a mean pancake." 

Dean went to work. He had the batter made and the pan heating. The silence in the kitchen was growing heavy. The angel was still at the table. He could just barely see over the top. Dean wished he would say something. Anything. Dean was about to pour the first pancake when a memory hit him. 

'Make ones kitty De!'

The ghostly voice hit Dean like a sucker punch. Adam had loved his pancakes and all the shapes he'd made. Dean swallowed hard and leaned hard against the counter. His eyes went unbidden to the bottom drawer. Stiffly, almost as if in a dream, he knelt down and pulled the drawer out. He dug around for a few moments and finally pulled out a metal cookie cutter. He stared at the cat cut-out and then glanced over at the angel, thoughtful. 

"Hey, buddy, how about I make special pancakes?"

When Dean set the plate of kitty cat shaped pancakes before the angel, he though the tiny blue eyes would pop out. The angel was up on his knees, staring at the pancakes with wide-eyed wonder. "See, just like your pink kitty!" Dean pointed out. The angel was still in shock, but a tiny almost-smile was trying to develop. Dean rushed from the room and found the stuffed kitten buried on the couch amid blankets. He brought it back to the kitchen and set it beside the angel's plate. 

"See, your kitty can have pancakes too!"

And there it was...

A smile. It was tiny, but it was still there. The angel grabbed the stuff toy and snuggled it against his face. He set it back down and reached for the pancakes eagerly. Dean noted how he completely ignored the fork. Was the angel that hungry or was he not used to using utensils? 

Honestly, it didn't matter. The angel was tucking it eagerly, pulling off pieces of pancake and stuffing them in his mouth. His tiny, sunken cheeks bulged. Dean sat back in his chair with his coffee and own serving of pancakes. He was far to interested in watching the angel eat to really enjoy his own breakfast. He'd never seen someone so hungry.

The angel finally settled back, tiny stomach ever so slightly rounded. He'd only eaten three pancakes, but the angel was so little and starved, Dean would have been concerned had he eaten more. He didn't want to risk the angel puking it all back up again. 

"Okey dokey, munchkin, wipe your hands. You've got syrup all over them." The angel was already sucking at his sticky fingers. The same syrup was surrounding his mouth in a wet, gooey ring. Dean chuckled and went to work with a damp napkin. 

When the angel was finally less sticky, Dean helped him off his chair and back into the living room. The angel clamored back onto the couch and promptly buried himself in his nest of blankets. He tucked the kitten into his neck and the laid his head down on one of the throw pillows. He popped a thumb in his mouth. Within moments, he was fast asleep.

Dean watched the scene, chest warm. He smiled and shook his head in wonder. The relief he felt to see the angel settling in was like a weight rolling off his shoulders. He knew it wasn't perfect, but at least the angel wasn't sobbing and hiding. He must be doing something right. It must have been the pancakes. 

His phone vibrated on the countertop. He hadn't checked it since waking up. Hopefully, work wasn't calling. There was no way he was going to be able to explain this too Bobby. He could only imagine how disbelieving the old man would be at his life choices. He could practically hear him now: "The hell you doin,' son!!" Maybe a few more expletive's should have been added into that sentence. 

When Dean saw the caller ID on the screen, he breathed a sigh of relief. 

Sammy. He'd know what to do. He could give Dean some pointers and maybe he could figure out what he should be doing with the angel. 

"Sammy!"

"Dean, are you okay? How's the angel?" Sam burst out immediately. Dean angled the phone away from his ears and smirked at the show of concern. "We're good. Just finished breakfast. Angels like pancakes apparently." 

Sam chuckled. "I forgot how much you used to make pancakes for us," he remarked fondly. "You did those cool Grinch ones for us for Christmas that one year." Dean smiled, but a painful knot was tightening in his chest. Memories were always a toss-up for him. The poignant they were, the more they could hurt. 

"Listen, I was about to call you. What should I do with him?"

"Do?"

"Yeah, I mean, I have to go back to work in a day or so. Bobby can't just give me unlimited time off. Is there like an angel daycare?"

Sam made a pensive sound. 

"It's so stupid. I didn't even think about this yesterday. I was so caught up in just taking care of his wings and making him safe..." His voice trailed off. "Let me talk to Charlie. She knows more advocacy groups than I do. She'd know which centers are most humane."

"I feel like I need stuff for him," Dean admitted. "I mean, that's what you do for little kids right. Get toys and clothes and crap? He's still in one of my t-shirts. Thing's like a sack on him." Sam laughed and made a noise of agreement. 

"Yeah, maybe don't let him walk around your house like a little Victorian ghost child. Bet it's pretty cute though."

Dean found himself wanting to take pictures of the angel. Many many pictures. He could send some to Sam. 

"Where should I go for angel stuff? Does Walmart carry anything?"

Sam grunted. "No, just trashy, slave crap," he muttered. "Let me text you a few names of some good, advocacy shops. Ones that don't actively support angel sex trafficking." Dean was taken aback at the anger in his brother's normally placid voice. Sam was normally so chill. It took a lot to get him riled. Apparently, angel abuse was high on the list. 

"That'd be great, thanks. I was hoping to go today. Get him some toys or crap to do. He's sleeping now. Do angels sleep a lot?"

"He's young, so yes. He'll probably nap quite a bit." Sam paused. "Did he eat okay?

"Yeah, three small pancakes. He's a super messy eater by the way."

"I'm sending you a list of supplies. You should get some formula--he's very underweight. The formula is packed with vitamins and calories. Stick it in a bottle or sippy cup and try to get him to drink at least two a day. Morning and night." 

Dean made a mental note. The idea of feeding the angel himself was doing something funny to his chest. He'd cross that bridge later when he came to it.

"Okay, text me whatever you think we'll need. I'll try and do the shopping today if he stays chill." 

Dean said his goodbyes and hung up. When he turned back, the angel was still cuddled up in a little ball sleeping. He smiled fondly and headed back to the kitchen. He'd have another cup of coffee and try to relax for the remainder of the morning. God knew he'd need his energy later if he actually managed a shopping trip with a tiny angel.


End file.
